


Gift of Colors

by adrianna_m_scovill, Barson4Ever, Handfulofdust, ItalianDoll, kmfoss929, motherbearof3, prairie_light, theoofoof



Series: Barson Collaborations [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Collaboration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 10:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14953338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barson4Ever/pseuds/Barson4Ever, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Handfulofdust/pseuds/Handfulofdust, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItalianDoll/pseuds/ItalianDoll, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmfoss929/pseuds/kmfoss929, https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherbearof3/pseuds/motherbearof3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairie_light/pseuds/prairie_light, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoofoof/pseuds/theoofoof
Summary: Olivia returns home to find an unexpected visitor in her kitchen...





	Gift of Colors

**Author's Note:**

> After the fun (and relative success) of the first one, we got back together to write another collaboration.
> 
> A reminder of all the contributors from twitter: theoofoof, anni_scovill, motherbearof03, Mz_Scheherazade, ItalianDoll, rpcchen, Barson4Ever, GodblessRaul, InHiding6, karenfossile, peppermintsnow_ and Handful_ofdust

Olivia hesitated inside the door, with her keys in her hand, listening. She could hear voices in the kitchen, just low enough that she couldn’t make out the words, and then an eruption of giggles from Noah. The sound of his laughter made her smile in spite of her confusion, and she set her purse and keys down as quietly as she could, walking forward carefully.

“No, not like that!” Noah exclaimed before bursting into another fit of giggles, and Olivia heard an answering laugh that sent a pleasant shiver through her. That wasn’t Lucy in the kitchen with Noah; Olivia didn’t know why Rafael Barba was in her apartment, but she’d know his voice, and that low chuckle, anywhere.

She hadn’t seen much of him lately since he’d transferred out of the Manhattan DA’s office three months earlier. He still dropped by the precinct occasionally, popping in to say hello, and they’d been out for a few quick lunches or after-work drinks so he could fill her in on what he’d been up to.

It wasn’t the same as it used to be, though; they were always just a little awkward, not quite sure of their words. She wanted to tell him how desperately she missed him, and she knew that there were things he wanted to say, as well.

He’d texted her the night before to ask if she wanted to go out for a late dinner, or drinks, but she’d told him she couldn’t. She’d regretted the text as soon as she’d sent it; even more so when she’d received his response: _I understand. Raincheck. Have a good night, Liv._

She rounded the corner and stopped at the sight of Noah and Rafael in the kitchen together. She must’ve made a sound because they both turned with matching looks of surprise on their faces.

The kitchen was a disaster. There was flour everywhere, and the sink was overflowing with dirty dishes. There were steaming pots on the stove—spaghetti, she thought by the scents filling the apartment—but Rafael and Noah were at the counter, Noah standing on a chair. The boy was wearing a garbage bag as a poncho, with holes cut for his neck and arms. The bag was streaked with frosting, dusted in flour, and splattered with batter; so was Noah’s face, and it looked like he might have egg in his hair.

Rafael was wearing dark slacks and a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and Olivia’s ruffled apron over his clothes. When he saw Olivia, he offered a sheepish, wary smile.

“Hi, Mom!” Noah exclaimed. “Uncle Rafa came to give you a present!”

“Hi,” Rafael said.

“Where’s Lucy?” Olivia asked.

“She…went home,” Rafael answered.

“You sent my babysitter home?” she asked. She wasn’t angry, exactly; just confused.

“She was sick, Momma!” Noah said.

“Sick?”

“Yes, uh,” Rafael said, wiping his hands nervously on the apron, “I was just going to drop something off but she was…pretty ill, so…I hope that’s—I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted, turning her attention to Noah as she walked into the kitchen. She couldn’t keep staring at Rafael, no matter how much she wanted to. “What’re you guys up to?” she asked her son.

"Look!” Noah said, turning and grabbing the platter from the counter. She saw a chocolate-frosted cake as he hefted it into the air. Noah started tilting the dish toward her, and she had just enough time to see what they’d written in icing: _Happy Mother’s Day_ , and then the whole cake tipped up and slid off the plate.

Rafael threw his hands out, catching the cake in midair while Noah stood, stunned, holding the empty platter. Rafael froze with the cake in his hands and a look on his face that said he had no idea what he was supposed to do next. Olivia felt a laugh bubble up in her throat, and she was helpless to fight it back.

Rafael’s spread hands were large enough that he was able to keep the cake together, but he was struggling. Noah was giggling and Olivia’s eyes were watering from laughing so hard. “Liv,” Rafael said, “please help me.” She grabbed the plate from Noah and moved quickly to Rafael’s side just as he lost his grip on the cake. Noah and Rafael watched as Olivia twisted the plate under Rafael’s hands and caught the cake. It was lopsided, but it was salvaged. Olivia and Rafael looked at Noah. Giggling, the boy looked between them and started clapping.

Rafael shook his head, chuckling as he looked at the mess on his hands. Olivia was still laughing as she reached past her son to set the cake on the counter.

“Lift your arms,” she told Noah, and she carefully stripped the garbage bag up and over his head. “Go get washed up for dinner, please,” she said as she kissed his head, carefully avoiding the streaks of dried egg in his curls.

Noah hopped down from the chair and ran off to the bathroom.

Wadding up the soiled garbage bag, Olivia eyed the chocolate covering Rafael’s hands and forearms. “You might need to join him,” she said, pressing her lips together to keep more laughter from escaping.

His green eyes met hers. He very deliberately lifted a finger to his mouth and licked off some frosting. Then he extended his other hand toward her. “Want a taste?”

Her mouth had gone dry at the sight of his tongue removing chocolate from the digit and she couldn’t think of a reply over the sound of her pulse in her ears. Before Rafael could repeat the question, Noah’s voice penetrated her inappropriate thoughts.

“Momma! I can’t reach my shampoo!”

“I, uh, should go help Noah,” Olivia said, handing the bag to him and turning to walk quickly toward the bathroom, face burning.

The sight of her son standing in the tub, naked but for the egg and flour in his brown curls, with the shower curtain open and the spray of water hitting his small, shivering body and splashing onto the floor, drove everything else from her mind.

“The water is freezing, my love!” she exclaimed, reaching for the lever and turning it so the water warmed to a more comfortable temperature. “There, that’s better.”

Olivia pulled the curtain closed a bit to keep the water in the tub and removed the handheld showerhead to rinse the baking debris from his hair. It took two rounds of shampoo to wash it all away.

A part of her was grateful for the extended scrubbing session. It gave her time to process, time to think; time to figure out what was next.   Why was he even there, in her apartment?   Sure, they’d talked and texted since that day in February, had seen each other for the occasional dinner, drinks after work. She’d been so scared of losing him altogether that she relished every minute she got to spend with him, no matter how awkward their silences had become.

He’d even shown up to a couple of Noah’s Little League games and had made her melt into the bleachers with the way he’d cheered for her son. Not that she’d be caught dead admitting that to him. But this? This was new.

When he’d said goodbye to her all those months ago by the courthouse, there had been an undercurrent of something more personal there, something that reached beyond the job and the friendship that meant so much to her. Something in his face and his words had given her a moment of hope that he would finally broach the subject they had both so carefully avoided over the years, the one she was too afraid to even contemplate most of the time.

But he hadn’t. He’d left it at talk about colors and her apparent knack for messing with people’s heads (he’d worded it much nicer, of course) and hadn’t brought it up since. So, she’d let it go. Or tried to, at least. On the occasions that she did see him, he always seemed so much happier, animatedly talking about the things that now filled up his days.

Sure, the snark and his trademark smirk were still there – familiar and comforting – but overall, he seemed content, lighter almost. Rafael seemed to be settling well into his new life, and she’d begun to wonder if she herself, what she was and did, had any place in it. He’d probably be offended if she ever suggested such a thing out loud, but she couldn’t help feeling it. She didn’t want to bring the darkness of her days into their time spent together.  

So, they talked about his work and Noah and weekend plans but never her job. He would ask, of course, but she carefully avoided going into any detail. It was hard, though, not being able to confide in her best friend anymore. She told herself that she was doing it for him, that he deserved to be free, but sometimes she wondered if maybe she wasn’t just losing him, but pushing him away. But now he was here, in her apartment, baking a Mother’s Day cake with her son and…was he flirting with her?! That bastard. She cursed him inwardly because he probably didn’t even realize that what he was doing meant something. She hated herself a little because it did.

She wanted to smack him upside the head. And she wanted to kiss him. And most of all, she wanted to lick that goddamn chocolate off his fingers one by one. But now was hardly the time for any of that. She was exhausted, her son was dripping all over the floor like a wet puppy, and her kitchen was a disaster zone. Rafael Barba really did have impeccable timing, she thought, hysterical laughter bubbling up inside of her.  

“Momma, stop! You’re rubbing my skin off.”  

She snapped out of her thoughts and almost laughed at the indignant scowl on her son’s face. He was wrapped in a towel like a mummy, curls sticking up in all directions. _Get it together,_ she thought. _You can’t hide in here forever._

When Olivia returned to the kitchen, she was amused to find Rafael still in her fluffy apron with his lips pursed, eyes focused, and fingers skillfully trying to morph the lopsided cake back to a recognizable state.  She found his domestic flare heartwarming and, frankly, rather seductive. She was embarrassed by the thought about her best friend who, up until half an hour ago, had never indicated that he wanted to move their relationship in that direction. But his offer for her to “taste the cake” that covered his fingers was, to her, suggestive and inviting. She was no longer sure what he wanted from her.

Rafael looked up to catch Olivia staring at him, and he gave her a half-smile. “Glad I didn't become a pastry chef or plastic surgeon?” He licked the chocolate off his forefinger.

She smiled, hoping he wouldn’t notice that her face was flushing with embarrassment.

“Would you still like your spaghetti?” Rafael pointed to stove. “Or would you like to just skip to dessert?”

Those green eyes and that damn smirk - he knew he was flirting with her and he knew she was enjoying it.

Thankfully, Noah returned to the kitchen - dressed in fresh pyjamas - and asked if it was time to eat, giving Olivia another out - and time to think about how to respond to this new, flirty Rafael.

After they’d finished eating, Olivia and Noah began to clear the table, carrying the dishes into the kitchen. Rafael followed and stood at the sink, turning on the taps to fill the washing up bowl.

“You don’t need to do that,” she told him.

“I think I do. This chaos is all my fault.”

Olivia snorted and walked past him. “No, that’s not what I mean.” She pulled down a faux-cupboard door to reveal a dishwasher. “I think this should take care of the washing up just fine.”

“All those times I washed up and you didn’t think to tell me you had a dishwasher,” he grumbled, as he began transferring the pile of dirty dishes from the counter into the machine

“You never asked,” shrugged Olivia, before taking a plate from his hand. “And will you let me do that – you cooked.”

“Liv, I-”

Rafael and Olivia were so busy bickering about who should wash up, they failed to notice the bored, then mischievous, look on Noah’s face.

“Uncle Rafa?” the boy asked innocently.

Rafael turned toward Noah to see what he wanted, only to receive a handful of flour to the face.

“Noah!” Olivia attempted to chastise her son for his behaviour, but the sight of Rafael stood in the middle of her kitchen with a face full of flour was too much and she couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in her throat. She was soon joined by Noah, who looked rather pleased with himself and thought it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

“Something funny, Lieutenant Benson?” Rafael asked, advancing towards her. She noticed the glint in his eyes - and his smirk - just a fraction too late and before she could react, he grabbed the bag of flour from the counter.

She backed away but found herself trapped by the cupboards. “N-no! Rafa! Don’t you da-” But it was too late. Rafael unleashed the flour and it hit her on the forehead, spreading into her hair. “Right! You’ve asked for it now!” she declared. She lunged for him, trying to grab the flour back. He was too agile, though, and he managed to launch another two handfuls at her and one at Noah.

Her ability to think on her feet was something Olivia prided herself on and, putting that skill to use, she turned and opened the cupboard where she kept her baking supplies. Not that she did much baking, but Lucy would occasionally do it with Noah so she kept supplies on hand. She reached in and pulled out a second, bigger bag of flour.

“Ah,” gulped Rafael

“Give in?” Olivia asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Never! You should know by now that I never give up without a fight.”

“Is that right?” While Rafael was speaking Olivia had managed to get the second packet open and both she and Noah had their hands in the bag. “Ready?” Olivia asked her son.

“Ready!” Noah asserted with a firm nod of his head.

“3, 2, 1… Go!”

Olivia’s words signalled the start of a massive flour fight, with white powder flying in all directions. Noah tired quickly but was content to sit back and watch as the two adults fought it out; giggling along with them.

Eventually, Rafael ran out of flour and had to – reluctantly – surrender, ending their playful fight.

The floor and counters were covered in flour except, quite remarkably, the bit where the cake sat; they had obviously made an effort to avoid that area.

Olivia looked at Noah;  clumps of flour clung to his still damp curls. “Look at you. You look like a snowman.”

“I think another shower is in order, _amigo_.”

Noah turned to leave, but Olivia called him back. “Not so fast young man. You started this fight; you can help clear up the mess.”

The three of them worked well - wiping down the cupboards, counters, and the table before sweeping the floor -  and about half an hour later, it almost resembled normality.

“I’ll run a mop over the floor later,” Olivia said. Most of the flour had brushed up, but she was conscious there could be bits she’d missed. She turned to Noah. “Go on, back into the shower. And use warm water this time, please.”

While Olivia ushered her son off to the bathroom, Rafael had wiped his face on a towel, ridding it of most of the flour. There was still a small smudge of white just below his hairline.

Without conscious thought, Olivia stepped close to him and lifted her hand to his face, brushing the flour away. “You missed a bit.”

“Did I?” Rafael smirked.

Olivia smiled in spite of the pounding of her heart. “After Noah’s done, you can use the bathroom to get cleaned up. If you’d like.”

Thirty minutes later, Rafael was in an NYPD t-shirt and a pair of old sweatpants that Olivia had lent him while his clothes were in the washer. Noah was asleep beside Olivia. All three of them had damp hair.

Rafael looked at Noah and then at Olivia and asked, “Is he….?”  Liv just nodded so as not to wake the boy. She pointed to Noah’s room, indicating that she was going to put him to bed.  Rafael touched his fingers to his lips and then lightly touched them to the top of Noah’s head, gently brushing his curls.  Olivia carried Noah back to his room, tucked him in and kissed his cheek softly.

She returned to the living room to find Rafael seated on the sofa with two dishes, each with a heaping piece of that delicious-looking chocolate cake. She paused to just look at Rafael; to really take him in. Yes, he had hurt her by leaving the DA’s office. Yes, he had infuriated her with his “colors” and “moving on” speech.  But there was something inside her that she couldn’t put her finger on that stopped her from telling him to leave.  Olivia felt warm inside and she could only hope that Rafael did too.

Rafael must have felt Olivia’s presence.  He looked up to see her staring at him.  “Are you okay?” he asked.  When Olivia didn’t immediately answer, Rafael said, “Liv, I’m sorry if I overstepped here tonight.”  

She held up her hand to stop him and said, “I actually want to thank you. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time. And it feels good. But I need to ask you something…..”

_What are you doing here?_

That’s what she wanted to ask, but the words were stuck in her throat. The truth was, she was afraid of the answer.

_What do you want from me?_

“Do you want milk with that?” she asked.

He smiled, and she thought that some of the tension left his shoulders. “Probably a better choice than scotch,” he said. “Al _though_ …” he added, raising his eyebrows.

“What makes you think I still keep scotch around?” she asked, the words slipping out before she realized they were on her tongue. She saw the little wince that he tried to hide, and she regretted the dig. Alone with him, she was on edge again, and she didn’t like the feeling. Not with Rafael, with whom everything used to be so easy and comfortable. But now? She didn’t know what was expected of her, and that wasn’t a sensation she relished.

She walked into the kitchen before she could say something else that she might regret. She pulled the ice tray from the freezer and popped out a few cubes, ignoring Rafael as he set the cake on the coffee table and rose from the couch to follow her. She dropped the ice cubes into a glass and got the bottle of scotch from the cupboard.

“Liv,” he said quietly.

“I checked in with Lucy,” she said as she poured his drink. “Thank you for staying with Noah. Although I’m not sure what possessed you to try baking with a five-year-old,” she added in an attempt to lighten the mood. She should’ve kept her snarky comment about the scotch to herself. They’d been having so much fun, the three of them.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

Her stomach clenched. “No,” she said. _I never did_. She gathered her courage and turned to face him, glass of liquor in hand. He regarded her in silence, his expression watchful and wary. And she knew that she had to be brave, or she might lose him forever. She might lose him, anyway—he seemed so much happier, healthier, and more relaxed in his new job, and the very last thing she wanted was to hold him back. But no matter what, she had to be honest; with him, and with herself.

She set the scotch on the counter and got herself a glass of wine while he waited in silence. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess, but she knew what she needed to say.

“Come back to the couch,” she said, tipping her head toward the living room. He followed her without a word and sank down into the cushions beside her. She set her glass on the coffee table beside the cake and turned toward him, drawing one bent leg onto the sofa between them. After a moment, he copied her. They sat looking at each other, knees almost touching. “You seem happy,” she told him. “The new job is good for you. It’s like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders.” She sighed. “I really couldn’t be happier for you, Rafael. You know that, right? You deserve only good things. And I’m glad you stopped by. I’m always glad to see you. I guess I’m just not sure…where I fit into your life, anymore. I don’t want to be a reminder of all the darkness you left behind.”

“Liv,” he said. He reached out a tentative hand and touched his fingers, feather-light, to her knee. “If I’m happy when you see me, it’s only because I’m with you. Yes, the job is good. But my life is…” He trailed off, swallowing. He looked at his hand on her knee and let out a breath. “You,” he finally said. “My life is you. If you think you can ever forgive me, I’d like to…I don’t know. Not start over, but start…living. A real life. I love you, Liv. I always have.”

“Always?” Olivia felt her vocal chords form, heard her mouth say. She'd suspected, hoped, wished, even prayed for this. She hadn't really planned on what to do if it was true, afraid to let her hopes get too high.

Rafael lifted his fingers from her knee and took hold of her hand. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles and smiled in that bittersweet, half-formed way he always did when she would turn him down for drinks. “Always.”

He searched her eyes. She tried to tell him with them because she couldn’t get the words out of her throat.

It was really very simple. _Me, too._

It didn’t work. She thought, somewhere along the way, she’d lost the ability to communicate with him like this, because something snapped behind his eyes. He let go of her hand.

“You don't have to let me down gently, Liv.” He blinked, shaking his head. He rose smoothly from the couch. “I understand.”

_No, you don’t._

Apparently, she liked watching her heart walk away from her because she was letting him do it again. She managed to get up from the couch and follow him. She had no trouble following him but couldn’t tell him to stay?

Rafael stopped where he’d left his bag by the door near the coat rack. He picked up the bag,  fidgeting so much that something fell out of the outside pocket and onto the floor. It was a thin, rectangular box with a single bow around it.

Olivia picked it up, stared at it, and remembered Noah saying Uncle Rafa had come by to drop something off... a present.

Suddenly, she was able to form words: “What's this?”

His eyes widened, panicking. He reached out to snatch the box from her hands, but she pulled back. His shoulders slackened, his expression was pained. “Liv, give it back. It's stupid now.”

Her trembling fingers moved the bow off the box, opening the lid. A triangular crystal object was sitting on a bed of cotton, attached to a long chain.

She noticed it catch the light. Colors danced around what was previously a clear gem.

A prism. Rafael had given her a prism necklace and he wanted to take it back? He was showing her the colors she’d given him and now he wanted her to return it?

She looked up, trying not to cry but failing miserably. She felt the sigh leave his body before she saw him put his hand to his forehead. He blinked several times, and said, “So you understand now why -”

“No,” she cut him off, holding the box in both hands. She’d stopped trying to hold back the tears. “You _don't_ understand. I'm not letting you go. Not again. Especially not after this.”

He hesitated. “Liv, what are you saying?”

She shook her head with a smile. For someone with a Harvard degree - on a scholarship, no less - he could be dense sometimes. “I’m saying that I love you too, Rafa.”

His eyes widened and he furrowed his brow. “But... “ He gestured aimlessly toward the couch where they’d just been sitting, where he’d made his confession and she’d all but shut down.

Olivia walked the two or so steps to him, so she was stood in front of him. “I was a little stunned,” she admitted. “It took me a minute to process what you were saying; to believe that you actually felt the same way I did.”

“Always,” he repeated.

“Well, I know that… now.” She gave him a small smile. “Everything has been so muddled these last few months. I wasn’t sure how we were supposed to move forward. To go from being professional colleagues to just friends… or more…” One hand fell away from the jewellery box and she reached up to cup his face. “But never doubt that I love you, Rafael Barba. Always. And in _all_ ways.”

He searched her eyes, and she saw the relief settle into his expression. He exhaled softly. “I was so afraid that I’d lost you, that you’d never be able to forgive me,” he said, reaching up to cover her hand on his cheek. “It’s like I didn’t fit into _your_ life anymore. You don’t want to talk about work, about cases—”

“I don’t want to hold you back, you needed to move on and me, I’m a part of the darkness that almost destroyed you.”

He drew her hand forward, pressing a kiss against her palm, and she felt a shiver pass through her as their eyes held. “You are…all the light in the world, Liv,” he murmured. “You saved me.”

She stepped closer. Her eyes were shimmering with tears, but she smiled. “And?” she asked.

One side of his lips tipped upward in a smirk. “And, don’t you want to try your cake?” he asked.

She laughed and rolled her eyes, but before she could say anything, his fingers slid into her hair and he bent his head forward, holding her gaze.

 _I love you_ , she thought.

Smiling in response to the unspoken words, he tipped his head and pressed his lips, gently, against hers. _No, not lost_ , she thought of their ability to communicate in silence.

The kiss was slow and sweet. Just a small touch. But it was perfect. It was like coming home. After the previous months full of doubt, after all the years of waiting, they were finally here, together.

They broke apart slowly, just a few inches, reluctant to be away from each other. He studied her face and could see the different shades of brown in her hair, the little wrinkles around her eyes and her mouth, the exact tan of her skin, the subtle pink on her cheeks, the shape of her lips; and he wanted to kiss her again. Not because she was beautiful. _She certainly was._ But because she was exactly the perfect and right kind of beautiful. And brave. And funny. And smart. She was everything he had ever wanted and more than he could’ve ever hoped to find.

At that thought, Rafael’s heart filled with so much love for the woman who was standing before him that he couldn’t stop himself, and he pressed his lips against hers again. This kiss was different: urgent; intense. His hand moved from her hair to her neck while the other slid toward her waist, pulling her closer until her body was firmly pressed against his. Olivia felt his tongue brush against her bottom lip and she gladly opened her mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss. _Yes, this feels like home._

Rafael made a low sound in his throat when he felt Olivia’s fingers at the back of his neck, and his hand tightened on her hip, pulling her more firmly against his body.

Air; he needed air. His brain and his lungs were screaming at him, but he’d waited too goddamn long for this. So he ignored them until he couldn’t. He took her face in his hands and tried to pull away. He wanted to look at her, remember this moment, the way she looked - thoroughly kissed and blissful. But as he moved his head back, she followed him, peppering kisses on his face as she went. One, two, three on his lips. Four, five on his nose and the corner of his mouth. Six, seven and eight along his jawline. Almost desperate, as if he might disappear if she stopped.

As if he’d ever let her go again. “God, you’re good at this,” he heard himself tell her. It was a stupid thing to say, but the words tumbled out anyway. Lack of oxygen, he supposed, and he got over it when he felt her smile against his lips. He could get lost in her, and he wanted to. But there was that stupid rational part of his brain again, telling him that maybe they should both take a minute to process this fundamental shift in their relationship. He took her face in his hands again, rested his forehead against hers and felt one of her hands come up to cover his. In her other hand, she was still holding the prism necklace he’d given her.

“I should go, Liv,” he said, and he immediately felt her hand tighten around his wrist. When she opened her eyes, though, he knew that she understood that this wasn’t him trying to leave again. What he saw in her eyes instead was a combination of warmth, trust, and hope.

She took a step back and looked at him, _really_ looked at him - and suddenly something in her expression changed. It was unnerving, so much so that he fidgeted, waiting for whatever might come next.

“Something on your mind, Lieutenant?” he asked eventually when he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Just wondering, Barba. Where do you think you’re going in those?” she answered, vaguely pointing her index finger at him, eyes sparkling with mirth and shoulders shaking with barely controlled laughter.

Confused, he looked down at himself. He groaned and threw his head back with a dramatic sigh that made her laugh harder. There he was, in her sweatpants and NYPD t-shirt, barefoot, his hair a mess. He’d forgotten about all of it, completely wrapped up in kissing Olivia Benson. He looked ridiculous, and while he might not wear a three-piece suit to work every day anymore, he was still Rafael Barba. He wouldn’t be caught dead going out in public dressed like this. She knew that, of course.

Olivia took mercy on him and stopped laughing. He wanted to be annoyed, but she was beautiful when she laughed. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen her quite like this. He never wanted to forget it.

“Laundry’s almost done,” she said. She walked over to the couch and sat down, carefully placing the jewellery box with her necklace on the coffee table. She looked up at him and patted the spot beside her. “Sit. Eat cake. Smile.” Laughter bubbled up inside of him at her throwback to one of their first Forlini dinners together, and he settled beside her on the sofa. He’d all but forgotten why he’d ever wanted to leave; as soon as he was seated beside her, her warmth seeped into his bones.

They enjoyed their cake in silence and she marvelled at the fact that Rafael Barba could actually bake. He was good at it, too, and she couldn’t help the tiny moan of pleasure that escaped her lips as she finished the last of her treat. She flushed scarlet when she realized he was staring at her, shit-eating grin on his face. He was proud of himself, and her immediate response was to snark back at him. She thought better of it at the last second. Oh, he unsettled her but maybe, just maybe, she could unsettle him a little too.

“So,” she said, “about that taste you offered me earlier...that offer still good?” With a feeling of absolute triumph, she saw his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. Oh, she had him. She really did.

He was pretty sure that the ringing in his ears was warning bells. _Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do it_ , he repeated over and over in his head, but he watched helplessly as he dipped his finger into the chocolate icing and offered it to her. When she closed her lips around it, he was sunk. And so was she.

Later, he would wonder what happened between him sitting on her couch and standing in her bedroom while she pulled that stupid t-shirt over his head, but he found that he didn’t care at all.


End file.
